Chapter 8 - Whispers in the Blood
Dawn crawled over the skyline of the financial district like a gray veil soaked in ash.
The penthouse at The Sovereign was heavily fortified within thirty minutes of their arrival.
Dr. Evans was dead, so Sebastian brought in Dr. Catherine Vance—Julian Vance’s estranged daughter and an elite trauma surgeon who owed Sebastian her career.
Catherine worked in absolute silence in the private guest quarters, sewing nineteen stitches into Cole’s torn shoulder and dressing the cuts on Lily’s wrists.
Lily sat on the edge of the guest bed, wrapped in an oversized cashmere robe, staring blankly at the floor.
Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass in the primary gallery, holding an unlit cigarette between his scarred fingers.
He had refused medical treatment, brushing off the deep laceration across his forearm with a splash of rubbing alcohol and a linen bandage.
Sebastian walked out of his dressing room wearing a fresh, immaculate charcoal three-piece suit and a crisp white shirt.
He carried a second tailored suit over his arm, throwing it onto the leather sofa beside Dominic.
"Change your clothes," Sebastian said, his tone devoid of warmth.
"If you are going to stand beside me in front of the board, you will not look like an insurgent from the Oregon backcountry."
Dominic turned slowly, looking down at the thousand-dollar wool fabric with open mockery.
"You think fine cloth changes what is underneath, Sebastian?"
"You think thirty years of private tutors and country clubs makes your blood any cleaner than mine?"
Sebastian took a single step toward him, closing the distance between them until their eyes were barely six inches apart.
"It doesn't make my blood cleaner," Sebastian said, his voice lethal and quiet.
"It makes my strikes more effective."
"Out there in the woods, you survive by pulling triggers."
"In that boardroom fifty floors up, you destroy men with a signature and a whisper."
"If you want Marcus Sterling stripped of his assets, you play by my rules."
Dominic stared at him, the tension between them vibrating like a high-tension cable on the verge of snapping.
Then Dominic picked up the tailored shirt and inspected the mother-of-pearl buttons.
"Arthur’s arrogance lives in you, little brother," Dominic said, stripping off his bloodied tactical shirt.
Sebastian’s eyes dropped to Dominic’s bare torso.
Scars crisscrossed Dominic’s ribs and shoulders—burn marks, shrapnel indentations, and the distinct puckered exit wounds of old gunfire.
Dominic had not spent his twenties in universities; he had lived in war zones.
Across his left collarbone was the identical surgical scar from the fencing foil, mirror-positioned.
"Why did you protect Lily?" Sebastian asked suddenly.
Dominic paused with his arms halfway into the crisp white sleeves.
His hardened expression cracked for a split second, revealing a deep, protective grief.
"Margaret Harper was a coward who took our father's hush money," Dominic said, buttoning the cuffs with rough fingers.
"She drank herself to death trying to forget what she participated in."
"Lily was ten years old when Margaret started locking herself in the bedroom with gin bottles."
"I raised that girl, Sebastian."
"I stole groceries from convenience stores so she could eat dinner."
"I worked twelve-hour shifts at a diesel repair yard when I was fifteen to pay for her schoolbooks."
"She didn't ask to be born into the shadow of Arthur Kane’s bastard."
"She is the only human being on this earth who loved me when I had nothing."
"If anything happens to her because of this war, I will burn Kane Enterprises to the bedrock and put you inside the furnace."
Sebastian did not blink.
He respected the threat because it was born of loyalty, not greed.
"She will be protected," Sebastian said firmly.
"Cole is remaining here with four armed operators who take orders only from me."
"The penthouse security protocols have been locked to biometric clearance."
Lily appeared at the library doorway, leaning against the frame with exhaustion weighing down her shoulders.
She looked between the two identical men standing in the center of the room.
Dressed in matching charcoal suits, with their jawlines squared and their pale gray eyes fixed on each other, they were terrifying.
They were two halves of the same destructive weapon.
"You're both going to walk into a trap," Lily said, her voice small and trembling.
"Marcus Sterling knows you survived the manor."
"His men will have the entire executive floor secured."
Sebastian turned to her, his expression softening by an imperceptible margin.
"Marcus Sterling expects Sebastian Kane to walk into that room alone, desperate, and begging for a credit extension," Sebastian said.
"He does not expect Arthur Kane’s ghost to walk through the door behind him."
Sebastian reached into his desk drawer and withdrew the twin silver signet rings.
He kept his father's ring on his own right pinky finger.
He walked across the room and held out the second ring—the one recovered from the ashes of Clara’s life.
Dominic looked down at the silver falcon.
He did not reach for it immediately.
His chest rose and fell in a heavy, measured breath as thirty-four years of exile crystallized into a single piece of cold metal.
Dominic reached out, took the ring, and slid it onto his left pinky finger.
May you like
The two silver birds caught the morning light simultaneously.
"Let’s go take our father’s company," Dominic said.
